Moirai (5)
Frondier, confirming that his surroundings had completely vanished, looked at the giant.
The fallen giant had a hole where he had been pierced by the weapon. Blood wasn't flowing, but it looked painful enough.
Moreover, he was emaciated, his skin stretched taut over his bones, devoid of any color. If this wasn't the form of a soul, Frondier would have judged him dead.
‘The form of a soul is probably influenced by its own will. Having been impaled and suffering for so long without being able to eat or drink anything, it's only natural for it to become like this.’
If he had been suffering for all that time since Ragnarok ended, the giant's chances of revival were bleak. Even if he was a giant, he was originally human.
But Frondier still had a glimmer of hope.
Just a while ago, when Frondier left Pandemonium, there was a distinct sense of discrepancy.
‘I thought I spent 10 minutes inside Pandemonium, but when I came out, an hour had passed.’
Selena had told him that herself. Besides, even without her confirmation, Frondier could tell just by looking at the situation upon his return.
He had arrived much later than they had anticipated.
Time couldn't be measured within Pandemonium. So, the ‘10 minutes’ Frondier thought had passed was nothing more than intuition. There was bound to be a margin of error.
However, even so, he wouldn't mistake an hour for 10 minutes.
‘What if the flow of time here and outside is different?’
And if the difference was greater than expected, the time the giant had spent here wouldn't be as long as the passage of time itself.
It would still be a long time, but Frondier believed the giant could endure.
Furthermore, saying that the flow of time was different wasn't entirely accurate either.
‘This is the world of souls. A world where only two souls exist. Rather than time flowing differently, maybe the perception of time is different.’
This was nothing more than a hypothesis.
It wasn't that the flow of time was different, but rather that the soul's perception of it was different. Souls were more insensitive to the speed at which time flowed, and therefore, the actual time flowed faster than their perceived sense of time.
There was nothing here to prove the passage of time, making it even more likely. In other words, their perception of time was mistaken.
There was no evidence to support this reasoning, but it was far more plausible than the notion that the speed of time was different between here and there.
"So it's not over yet, giant."
Frondier laid the giant down straight. Even looking closely, he couldn't tell who he was. All he could tell was that he was exceptionally tall, with dark reddish hair.
His features were distinct and strong, but due to his emaciated state, his large frame now looked as pitiful as a tall, swaying reed. It would change once he regained his health.
"Now, how do I wake you up?"
Frondier carefully examined the man's body.
The stab wounds from the blade remained, but no blood flowed. This wasn't something to be relieved about but rather terrifying, because blood must have flowed initially.
Even though Pandemonium was a battle of souls, pain was real. As long as this giant was human, he would have bled when injured. Even if it wasn't actual blood.
The reason why blood wasn't flowing now was probably because he had already bled enough and this giant was no longer conscious of it.
‘That’s why he won't wake up even if I try something in front of him.’
It is possible to awaken a soul with the intensity of light when staying for a brief moment like Athena, but it is difficult to awaken a soul that is as good as dead during this long time.
‘Soul… Soul.’
Frondier fell into thought for a moment.
Frondier was more aware of souls than most humans. The Mana of Helheim he possessed was a power obtained by slaying souls.
And recently, Frondier had become aware that his Eclexis was stronger than others. No, rather than stronger, it was more like a natural enemy relationship.
He had seen those who suffered from his power in reality die. Even though it wasn't Frondier's intention, he had gained a power that would kill his opponent if he made even the slightest mistake in controlling it.
‘…This time, the most important thing is, aiming.’
Frondier lifted a finger and placed it on his forehead. This itself had no special meaning, it was just to focus his mind. And it was also to pray for the best. Of course, he didn't believe in God, so this prayer was something he told himself.
Get a grip and do it right.
"No malice. I mean it."
The giant's soul was here. It hadn't disappeared.
That meant it hadn't been extinguished. It was just asleep for a while.
Asleep, unconscious, fainted, comatose.
Whatever word he used, the important thing was that he wasn't dead yet.
There was only one thing Frondier could do to wake this soul up.
To inscribe fear.
'If I'm not careful, he'll really die. It's a dangerous method.'
Frondier drew upon his Eclexis and slowly approached the giant. His hand, trying its best to suppress it, trembled faintly.
The tension in Frondier's eyes, mouth, and cheeks completely disappeared, and like a man without a face, he looked directly at the giant.
His Eclexis became infinitely thin and soft, like a curtain. A curtain so light and thin that it billowed. Frondier brought the curtain down from above, very slowly, towards the giant.
And the moment the edge of the curtain brushed against the giant's thigh.
"──Gasp!"
The giant finally sat up, startled as if he had seen a ghost.
"Gasp, Cough! Cough!"
And then he coughed violently.
"Cough, Gasp, Cough, Cough, Hack, Cough!"
And he did so for a long time.
Frondier quietly watched him.
The giant finally noticed Frondier beside him and raised his hand apologetically.
"My, My apologies! Cough! I should have greeted you first! Cough!"
"It's alright. Take your time."
"Why, this coughing…!"
"Well, you haven't breathed in a long time."
Of course, Frondier hadn't expected the coughing, but he could understand why he was coughing.
It was better that he was just coughing.
After a while, as the coughing seemed to subside a little, Frondier asked,
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Hurt?"
"Your body, I mean."
Only after saying that did Frondier realize what he had said.
"Body…? Ah! Ugh!"
The giant screamed as he finally saw the hole in his body.
Souls are such a pain. Frondier thought.
"Calm down. This is Pandemonium. You know how to heal yourself, right?"
"Pandemonium? Th, That's right…!"
The man seemed to be gradually grasping the situation. As he closed his eyes with a grimace, the wound began to heal.
We have different ways of healing. Frondier thought leisurely.
"Phew… My apologies. I apologize for the late introduction. I am Sigurd."
"…Sigurd?"
"Do you know me?"
Frondier's jaw dropped at the unexpected name.
'Gram,' the sword wielded by his father, Enfer. The original owner of that sword was Sigurd. A prominent hero of Norse mythology.
'Could even Sigurd not overcome God in Pandemonium?'
More than the fact that he had met Sigurd, Frondier was shocked that this hero had lost.
Of course, the failure of Ragnarok meant that humanity had lost, and therefore, all the heroes he knew had been defeated. However, being defeated in Pandemonium had a slightly different meaning, and seeing the actual defeat before his eyes felt different.
"But who are you? How did you get here?"
Sigurd asked. It was a natural question.
"My name is Frondier de Roach. I came here to meet you."
"…To meet me? How did you enter Pandemonium?"
"Well. Think of it as my ability."
This time, it was Sigurd's jaw that dropped.
"Your ability is entering Pandemonium? I've never heard of such an ability. If there had been someone like you, our war would have been won much easier!"
Disbelief and regret were evident in Sigurd's voice.
"…My Eclexis excels only in this. Entering Pandemonium."
Of course, that wasn't actually true, but Frondier told a small lie to convince Sigurd.
A power solely for entering Pandemonium. It sounded somewhat fair when put that way, even if the principle or logic behind it was ignored. People were more likely to accept something if it seemed balanced, even if they didn't understand the mechanism.
"A power solely for that… I see…"
Sigurd, too, seemed convinced by that 'fairness'.
"Then, let me thank you first. Thanks to you, I was able to awaken from that torment."
Sigurd bowed his head deeply as he spoke with a sincere gaze.
Then, as if something felt off, his eyes darted to the side.
“…But just now, I felt this incredibly terrifying presence right before I woke up? It felt like if I stayed like that, I would die.”
"I doubt it. It must have been your imagination."
"How did you wake me up?"
"I lightly touched you, and you woke up."
He lightly touched him.
Not with his hands, though.
"Pandemonium constantly inflicts pain, so maybe you were having a nightmare."
"Hmm, maybe so."
Sigurd nodded, but he still seemed unconvinced.
Fearing that he might figure out the true nature of that fear, Frondier quickly changed the subject.
"I came here to obtain information."
"Information? Do you have something to ask me?"
"Yes, first of all,"
"Hold on. Then I have something to ask first. Is that alright?"
"…By all means."
At Frondier's words, Sigurd observed him for a moment. He particularly scrutinized Frondier's attire. It was clearly different from his own.
Both in design and technology.
Confirming this, Sigurd asked,
"How much time has passed since I was defeated here?"
"…I don't know exactly. But countless years have passed."
"I see."
Sigurd nodded, seemingly accepting it. He seemed to have been prepared for it from the start.
Then, with trembling eyes, Sigurd asked,
"Then, what about Ragnarok? What happened?"
"…"
"Did we win? You're human, right? Then that means we won, right? Right?"
Frondier hesitated for a moment.
He pondered how to break the news to Sigurd without shocking him too much, but he realized it was pointless.
It was better to be clear.
Frondier shook his head solemnly.
"If you are referring to Ragnarok as the war between humans and Gods, we lost."
"…We lost?"
"Yes. Many Gods have retreated from this land, but there are still Gods remaining, and even those who have retreated still hold a great deal of influence over humanity."
At those words, Sigurd's expression hardened. His face resembled the lifeless state he had been in moments ago.
However, he soon shook his head and let out a deep sigh.
“…I see. Well, it was to be expected. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.”
“Did you anticipate defeat?”
“It wasn't what I hoped for, but yes.”
Sigurd nodded.
“I didn't expect the world of Olympus to join the fray.”
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